


Over the Garden Wall

by Beckers522



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Over the Garden Wall (Cartoon & Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Human, Aziraphale is Wirt, Aziraphale is a gardener, Crowley is Beatrice but in snake form, Crowley is Good With Kids (Good Omens), Found Family, Inspired by Fanart, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, The Unknown (Over the Garden Wall), Warlock is Greg, otgw - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:14:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25039087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beckers522/pseuds/Beckers522
Summary: Somewhere, lost in the clouded annals of history lies a place that few have ever seen -  a mysterious place called The Unknown, where long-forgotten stories are revealed to those who travel through the woods.Aziraphale and his young charge, Warlock, have lost their way. Though they can't remember how, they have found themselves wandering through The Unknown with no visible path home. It will take courage, hope, and the help of new friends to see them both safely through the woods and back where they belong.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale & Warlock Dowling, Crowley & Warlock Dowling
Comments: 12
Kudos: 10





	Over the Garden Wall

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! I know I've got two other WIPs I should be focusing on, but I was inspired this week and couldn't get this one out of my mind. I saw some amazing fanart for this au from one of my favorite artists on tumblr and could not focus on anything else until I wrote it down. Please please please, if you have the time and are a Good Omens fan, go check out his work. It is all absolutely wonderful!!!
> 
> https://penbwl.tumblr.com/post/622186080677068800/good-omens-otgw-au-doodle-snek-boy-singing-his (check out his art - it is seriously amazing, you guys!)
> 
> There won't be any regular update schedule for this one until my other two are done, but I do plan on finishing. One chapter for each episode in the series. So if you like what you see so far, let me know, and I'll do my best to keep going when I've got the free time! Thank you all so much for your support <3 It means the absolute world to me.

The forest was dark. Much darker than it ought to be, and quiet too. Shouldn’t forests have birds singing high up in the branches? Or cute little critters scuttling about in the underbrush, foraging for nuts and berries and the like? The darkness seemed to imply that it was nighttime. Would that not suggest the presence of at least an owl or two hiding in the dense treetops?

There was nothing. Not a single sound except for the crunch of dead leaves beneath his feet and that of the boy walking beside him.

Warlock. The child’s name was Warlock. An adventurous boy of six who had a love for asking the most ridiculous questions and a predisposition to not do as he was told. It was for this very reason the pair had found themselves in this predicament, he was sure of it.

He was...a pause. A glance. What was their predicament, exactly? Alone, in an unfamiliar forest? How did they get here? What had been the events leading up to this? Why was he so certain this boy was the driving force behind it all?

Yes. The boy, Warlock. This boy was named Warlock. And he was Aziraphale. Simple gardener for the estate and sometimes caretaker for the child as well, when his parents were too busy to mind him themselves. Which was often, now that he stopped to think about it. 

“...Bartholomew, Curtis, Razzle Dazzle, Mr. McStiggins, Pete, Steve. But I think the very worst name for this frog is - ”

Aziraphale’s hand shot out reflexively, nearly slapping the child in his face and stopping them both in their tracks. The silence drifted in like a dense fog and Aziraphale found himself straining to catch a glimpse of anything that might seem familiar. Anything that might clue him in on which direction to go.

“Wait,” he chastised as a faint noise echoed at the edge of his hearing. Was that a bird taking off in the sky? The wind rustling through the thick foliage? “Wait a second, Warlock.” He paused, looking down at the boy beside him, dressed in his olive overalls and long-sleeved white shirt. His normally unruly dark hair was mostly hidden from view, with only the ends sticking out from underneath an old silver teapot that was, for some reason, perched securely on the child’s head. “Where are we?”

“In the woods,” the boy responded, shifting the frog he was carrying from one arm to the other. Aziraphale blinked. Where had Warlock gotten a frog? He didn’t remember the child stopping to pick one up. And why was this one so big? It was unlike any frog he had ever seen before, and yet, that was certainly what it was. There could be no denying it. A frog, bigger than his outstretched hand, lay dangling from Warlock’s arms like it hadn’t a care in the world. How very strange.

“Yes, my dear, I can see that,” the gardener replied, glancing around them one more time. There was something about this place. He couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was, but it made Aziraphale think that nothing in the world could be better right now than to curl up in his cottage, surrounded by his many books and nestled under a warm blanket, with a nice mug of fresh cocoa. “I meant, what are we doing out here?”

“We’re walking home,” Warlock stated so matter-of-factly that Aziraphale would have laughed were he not currently so unsettled by this bizarre situation they had found themselves in. 

Looking around once more, Aziraphale reached down to take the child’s hand in his, a sense of dread slowly starting to creep in. thunder rumbled in the distance and the man suddenly had a certain feeling that they shouldn’t be here. “Warlock, dear.” He paused, not sure if he should continue. Aziraphale didn’t want to scare the child, but he needed to make the boy understand that this was no laughing matter. “I think we may have gotten a bit turned around.”

What to do, what to do? A frown made its way onto the gardeners face. What was one supposed to do in situations like this? He turned to look behind them, images of a familiar children’s tale filling his mind. Two small children wandering through a wood just like this one, leaving a trail of breadcrumbs behind as they marched toward their doom. 

“We should have left a trail…” the man muttered to himself. Beside him, Warlock shifted, tugging his hand from Aziraphale’s grasp as he reached into his pockets.

“Don’t worry!” The small, yet boisterous voice declared as he tossed a fist full of candy at the path behind them. “I can leave a trail of candy. From my pants! See?”

Once again, Aziraphale felt the temptation to laugh, and once again, he stifled it. No reason to let his guard down now. Not until they were safely back at the Dowling Estate.

A dull thud sounded nearby and Aziraphale nearly leapt with fright. He spun around, peering in the direction of the noise, trying to ignore how his heart was currently trying to climb up and out of his throat. “Did you hear that?” he asked, hoping Warlock might say that he hadn’t and it had all been in the gardener’s mind. 

“Yeah,” Warlock nodded his head in affirmation and Aziraphale once again took him by the hand and slowly moved them forward, keeping them mostly hidden behind the large trunk of a nearby tree. 

There, just on the other side of the treeline, stood a man. He was dressed head to toe in black, pants tucked down into his boots, a rather tall hat atop his head. From here, Aziraphale couldn’t make out most of his features. The forest was dark, and the only light nearby was coming from a single lamp resting on the ground by his feet.

The thudding noise they had heard, it turns out, was the sound of the man’s ax, whacking repeatedly into the fallen tree in front of him. He was humming a soft tune to himself as he gathered the finely chopped pieces, kneeling down to ensure he gathered up every last bit. Aziraphale’s eyes drifted over the scene, trying to gather any bit of information he might have missed. Other than the sticky shadows of what looked to be sap upon the fallen tree, there appeared to be nothing of use here.

“We should ask him for help,” Warlock announced with all the innocence of a child that had not yet been taught to be hesitant around strangers. His frog croaked in what sounded like agreement and Aziraphale shot it a glare before realizing how ridiculous an action that was.

“No,” he cautioned his young charge, eyes returning to the strange man once more. “We should not ask him for help.”

“But - “

“Shush,” Aziraphale snapped, feeling immediately guilty at how harsh he sounded. He didn’t want to scare Warlock, or make him cry, but the longer they lingered here, the more nervous Aziraphale became. What they needed to do was stop wasting time and find their way back to someplace familiar. A street with cars or a neighborhood, perhaps, where they could borrow a telephone and call for help.

“You shush,” Warlock argued, tugging his hand free to bring a single finger to his lips like he’d seen his mother do a thousand times before.

“No,” Aziraphale was almost at his wit’s end. “You shush.”

The boy glowered, but there was a teasing glint in his dark brown eyes. “ _ You  _ shush.”

As the pair argued, the light around them grew dimmer and dimmer. By the time Aziraphale looked up to take stock of their situation, the woodsman was walking away, the light from his lamp slowly disappearing behind the trees up ahead until it was over the hill and out of sight, leaving them in darkness once more.

“Ah,” Aziraphale sighed, feeling that all-too-familiar uneasiness return to his stomach. His gaze lingered on the space where the man had been. “Perhaps we should have asked him for help.”

“Maybe I can help you.”

The voice, sounding from behind them, was soft and low. Not deep, like a bass, but warm and gentle, and just a bit sultry. Aziraphale turned and saw, to his absolute horror, a serpent, nearly seven feet long with inky black scales and a red underbelly staring at them from a nearby tree. He’d managed to climb his way up to the branches level with the top of Aziraphale’s head and was gazing over at the pair of them with bright amber eyes.

“I mean,” the serpent continued, never once averting his gaze, “you two are lost, aren’t you?”

Aziraphale gasped, reaching up a hand to slap himself in the face, now certain that this was a dream. Some kind of twisted nightmare he’d found himself in - one that he desperately needed to wake up from. When the action did not banish the snake or the darkness or the wood at all, he spluttered, hoping some sort of answer might be provided. “What in the world is going on here?”

“Well,” Warlock piped up, clearly tickled that someone had thought to ask him. “You’re slapping yourself, and I’m answering your question, and - “

Aziraphale heaved out a heavy sigh. Now was really not the time. “No, Warlock, dear boy. This isn’t real. A snake’s brain isn’t big enough for cognizant speech,” he explained, forgetting for a moment that the six-year-old wouldn’t have the slightest idea what that meant.

Before he could amend his statement, the serpent’s head drifted closer. “Excussssse me? What was that?” 

Blue eyes widened. “I mean - “ boy, had he gotten himself into a puzzle. “I’m just trying to say that you’re, well, you’re  _ abnormal _ , is all. Out of the ordinary, as it were. Completely unexpected, and rather a bit alarming and - “ Goodness, he was rambling now, wasn’t he? Aziraphale had a tendency to do that when he was nervous.

“Good heavens, Aziraphale,” the man muttered, breaking eye contact for the first time. “Stop talking to it.”

“It?” He had never heard a snake, or any animal for that matter, sound so offended in his entire life. “I beg your pardon?”

Aziraphale’s eyes flashed back up to the luminous yellow orbs. “Uh - well, the thing is - “

Suddenly, the sharp snap of a twig sounded behind them. Aziraphale whirled around, his heart leaping from his chest when he realized Warlock had wandered several paces off to examine a slow moving turtle that he had decided to balance a piece of candy upon. There, standing before them, was the woodsman. Brown eyes wide, shadows etched into the deepest crevices of his face. “What are you doing here?” he demanded, voice thundering in the space around them, sending Aziraphale scrambling to bring Warlock back by his side, despite the boy’s protests to remain with his new friend. “Explain yourselves!”

“Aaaaand that’sss my cue,” the snake hissed, coiling up on himself as he disappeared out of the light and into the treetops, his striking golden eyes the only part remaining visible. For a moment, the luminous orbs lingered, casting a final wink in Aziraphale’s direction before disappearing completely into the darkness “Ciao.”

Despite his hesitancy to turn his back on the serpent that obviously still had to be somewhere in that tree, Aziraphale saw no other option but to focus his attention on the more immediate threat. The Woodsman still stood before them, lantern shining brightly in the dimly lit surroundings. Now that he was closer, Aziraphale took note of the thin worry lines etched into his forehead The crows feet perched at the edges of his eyes, and the thick mustache that twitched back and forth above his lip as he spoke.

“Calm down, sir,” Aziraphale murmured, trying to gain control of the situation before it got out of hand. “Whatever you do here is your business. We want no part in it. We just want to find our way home in one piece.”

The man glowered, the shadows on his face seeming to grow deeper and darker with the action. “These woods are no place for strangers.” His eyes flickered down to Warlock, who had once again returned to balancing candy on the back of his turtle friend. “Especially not children.”

These final words, and the way that he said them sent chills down Aziraphale’s spine. “Surely, there’s nothing wrong with a stroll through the forest,” the man ventured in an attempt to lighten the mood and assuage his own mounting anxieties about this strange place.

“Not this forest,” the Woodsman answered gravely. “Don’t you know the Beast is afoot here?”

There was no reason such a statement should have meant anything to Aziraphale, and yet the moment his ears heard those words, a secondary chill ran down his spine, causing the man to shiver. 

“The Beast?” He swallowed, trying to moisten his suddenly dry mouth. “We certainly don’t know anything about that. The two of us simply got a bit turned around, is all.”

Aziraphale smiled at the stranger, hoping that if the interaction was pleasant enough, the man might direct them home. It was difficult to tell exactly what time it was, but Aziraphale had a sense it was getting late. Although he looked perfectly complacent now, Warlock had a habit of getting quite cranky when he stayed up too late past his bedtime. Best to get the young boy home, sooner rather than later.

The Woodsman did not smile back.

“Welcome to the Unknown,” he announced, and another shiver coursed through Aziraphale’s entire body. The Unknown? What did that mean? Was that a place? If so, why had he never heard of it? And, more importantly, how were they supposed to get home from such a place?

“You’re more lost than you realize.”

Wind blew through the trees overhead, sending leaves tumbling to the ground as a low, soft whistle sounded. Aziraphale shivered, reaching out to pull young Warlock up against him. He did not like this one bit. If this was, in fact, a dream, the gardener hoped he would wake up soon. If it wasn’t, well, then his life as he knew it was  _ wrong. _

Very, very wrong, indeed.

* * *

“Candy trail. Candy trail. Candy trail!” Warlock hummed to himself as he placed one foil wrapped sweet after another in a line leading from the door into the cottage. Voices sounded behind him, but the boy paid them little attention. Aziraphale was currently talking to the old Lantern Man and had once again forgotten about him.

That was all well and good. Warlock liked Aziraphale, but knew the gardener couldn’t stop his work and play all the time. Warlock liked playing. He liked playing with Aziraphale. Even though most of the time, he ended up playing by himself.

“This gentleman sounds like he has one too many screws loose up here,” Aziraphale whispered as Warlock drew closer. The man squatted down, lifting a finger to point to his temple. “Honestly, going on and on about Edelwood trees and making oil. Seems a bit preposterous to me.”

Warlock turned to face the Lantern Man. “Screws?” he asked, a hint of excitement seeping into his voice. “Is he a robot?”

“Shush!” Aziraphale scolded, as if he were afraid of being caught talking. “No, Warlock, dear. He isn’t a robot.” A pause. Aziraphale turned his attention back to Lantern Man. “At least, I don’t have any reason to suspect that he is. Listen, we should make a break for it, if we can. Although…” Another pause. “He must know these woods very well. He may follow us. So we shall have to knock him out first. Except, that may turn out poorly for us. On second thought - bad plan. Forget it. We will need to come up with something else.”

Warlock shrugged. “Okay.” He didn’t understand why his caretaker was so concerned with getting home. As far as he could tell, the plants here were just like the ones back home, and here there were fun animals to make friends with, like turtles and frogs. He liked frogs.

“What are you two whispering about?” Lantern Man asked gruffly.

Warlock puffed out his chest. “We’re talking about running away from here,” he answered truthfully. Aziraphale always talked about how important it was to tell the truth. The boy thought Aziraphale would be proud of him for doing the right thing, but when he looked up at the man, his face had turned a ghostly white. He looked very much the opposite of happy.

“Leave, if you wish,” Lantern man groaned, “but remember - the Beast hunts these woods, ever singing his mournful melody, in search of lost souls such as yourselves.”

“To help us?” The question had come from Aziraphale. Warlock smiled at the thought. How nice of Mr. Beast to want to help them find their way home, even if he wasn’t quite ready to leave yet. He was having too much fun.

Lantern Man frowned, making Warlock wonder if he was ever happy, or if they had caught him on a bad day. He certainly looked like someone who only ever had bad days. Kind of like Warlock’s mother.

“No. Not to help you.” Lantern man sighed and turned to go. “I have work to do in the mill. When I am finished, I will do what I can to guide you, should you choose to stay.”

The moment the door shut behind him, Aziraphale was talking again. Muttering to himself about what they should do next.

“I suppose we could just leave couldn’t we? There’s nothing stopping us after all, and if he really has gone…”

Warlock took a moment to look around the room. It was a small cottage, with wooden floors and walls all blending together in one brown blob. A fire had been lit in the fireplace, casting a warm glow about the place, illuminating the small carved birds on the dresser nearby and the faded red cloth of the couch. Warlock meandered over to the birds, picking one up in his hand and flying it around the room as he tweeted bird calls like the ones he heard in the garden back home. 

“...guess it’s possible there’s a Beast, since there was just a talking snake, but…”

Aziraphale was talking a lot right now, and Warlock made sure to chime in every once in a while so it looked like he was listening. He wasn’t listening because Aziraphale wasn’t saying anything of much importance. He was just talking about nothing. When Warlock talked, he much preferred to talk about something. Talking about nothing didn’t seem all that helpful, if you asked him. Not that anybody ever did.

“Did you know,” he interjected when there was a lull in the conversation. “That if you soak a raisin in grape juice, it turns into a grape? It’s a rock fact.” He beamed, reaching a hand in his overalls to pull out a rock with a pair of painted on eyes and a tongue that was sticking out at him. Now that was something helpful to say. Now, if Aziraphale ever needed to turn a raisin back into a grape, he knew how!

The man sighed, sinking down into the couch as he lifted up a hand to rub at his face. “Warlock, my dear, why don’t you play with your new frog friend while I figure out what we should do?”

A grin tugged at the boy’s face and he looked around, only to have it plummet when he realized his friend was nowhere to be found.

“Aw beans!” he exclaimed, padding away towards the door. “Where is that frog ‘o mine?” He didn’t seem to be anywhere nearby. Had gotten out somehow? Hopped out a window? Or left when Lantern Man had opened the door? “Hold on there, a second, Mr. Aziraphale. I will be back soon to hear your plan.”

He heard no protest from Aziraphale, so the boy kept walking, keeping his eyes peeled for the green creature. Where could he have gotten off to? Frogs didn’t hop very far or very fast, so he had to be around here somewhere. All Warlock had to do was take the time to look.

Figuring the best way to find a frog was to act like one, Warlock crouched down into a squatting position, his hands perched between his feet, knees out to either side. “Ribbit,” he called out into the darkness. “Ribbit. Where are you, oh frog named Kitty?” The frog’s name wasn’t actually ‘Kitty’. As far as Warlock knew, the frog had no name, so Kitty served just as well as any other.

Step by step, the boy followed the beaten dirt path as it meandered alongside the nearby river and towards the closest collection of trees. Had Kitty gone back into the forest? That didn’t seem like him at all. He was a very lazy frog, as far as frogs went, and wouldn’t have gone too far unless he’d had a good reason.

Something sounded in the darkness ahead. A low breathy grumble of some kind, tugging at Warlock’s curiosity and prompting him to take a step closer. He peered into the woods, looking for any sign of bouncing green animals in the underbrush when a loud croak sounded from back toward the old mill.

“That frog is giving me the runaround,” Warlock announced to no one, using a particular phrase his father liked to throw around when talking business. The boy padded over toward the old wooden building, following the sound of the croaking until he found himself back at the mill. Clambering up the side of an old wooden barrel, Warlock stood up on the tips of his toes and pressed his face up against the glass window. 

Inside, he could see Lantern Man standing in front of some sort of machine. It was made from wooden gears and cogs and rotated with a ‘clickity-clackity’ sound as the man worked. It was difficult to tell exactly what he was doing, standing quietly at one end, feeding branches into the bucket at his feet. The machine ‘whirred’ and ‘clanked’ and Warlock watched as out the other side dripped a thin trickle of slick oil.

“Gross,” Warlock muttered as he watched it pool into an empty glass milk jar. Another croak caught his attention and Warlock ducked down to look between his legs. It appeared to be a simple wooden lid to the barrel he was standing on, but further inspection, which involved the boy throwing himself face first inside the object, practically hanging upside down as his feet dangled wildly on the other side, proved otherwise.

“Hey there Kitty,” he greeted the frog with a smile. “I was wondering where you hopped off to.”

The frog croaked in reply. Warlock extended his hands out in front of him to lift his friend out of the barrel and was surprised to find that moments later, he too had fallen victim to the object’s deceptive height.

“Woops!” the boy announced, glancing over at his friend currently nestled underneath his arm. Warlock opened his mouth to say more when the sound of ragged breathing reached his ear. Quickly, he closed his mouth and turned his attention toward the small circle of dark sky he could see up above from the space where the barrel’s lid should go. The sound was coming closer, growling louder as the seconds ticked by. Soon enough, footsteps joined the panting.

Something was coming, and Warlock was sure it wasn’t Aziraphale or Lantern Man.

An eerie blue glow appeared at the edge of the barrel, followed closely by a tuft of black fur above two brilliant blue eyes that illuminated the space between them. In the dim light, Warlock thought he might have seen the glint of sharp teeth in the creature’s mouth as it stared down at the child, trapped with nowhere to go.

The beast growled and Warlock raised a hand to shield his face from both the bright light and the needle-like teeth he could now clearly see. With nowhere to go and no idea how to get himself out of this mess, the boy did what only he knew how to do best.

Warlock improvised.

“You have beautiful eyes,” he told the creature as it opened its mouth wide, rows upon rows of sharp teeth on display for all to see, inching ever closer to him, bit by bit.

* * *

A loud crash jolted Aziraphale from his musings. He looked around the room and found, to his horror, that Warlock was nowhere to be found.

“Warlock?” Panic clawed at him. Where had that boy run off to? These woods were strange and unfamiliar. It wasn’t safe for him to be out there alone. “Warlock, where are you?” He leapt up from the couch just as the Woodsman burst back through the side door, his eyes wide with alarm.

“What’s happening?” he demanded, looking wildly around. “Where is your son?”

Aziraphale frowned. “He’s not my son,” the gardener corrected immediately. “He’s the child of my employer.”

Before the Woodsman could respond, the door to outside burst open and Warlock shuffled through, frog in hand. “Holy moly, it’s crazy out there,” he announced, almost as if in a daze. Then, eyes landing on Aziraphale’s face, the boy held out his frog in front of him. 

“Look Aziraphale. I found Kitty!”

Of all the nerve. What had this boy been thinking, going outside into the unfamiliar woods to search for a frog? How completely irresponsible of him. 

Aziraphale opened his mouth to tell Warlock exactly that when something else crashed through the door, sending the boy stumbling forward, catching himself on the base of the wooden stairs. Blue eyes opened wide with fright as Aziraphale took in the creature. Inky black fur, glowing blue eyes, and rows upon rows of sharp, snarling teeth greeted him.

“It’s the beast!” It had to be. What other explanation was there? Aziraphale froze as the creature turned its attention on him, its growl displaying glistening white teeth. This dog, if it could even be called a dog, was  _ huge _ . Nearly as tall as he was and likely weighing much more. What were they going to do? They couldn’t fight this thing off. They were trapped! With absolutely nowhere to go. 

“Stay back, both of you!” the Woodsman shouted, lifting his axe to face off with the creature. He had placed himself between the beast and the staircase, effectively cutting off its path to Warlock, for which Aziraphale was extremely grateful. “This creature is known as - “

Suddenly, his voice cut off. Aziraphale watched with wide eyes as the man stumbled forward, slipping on a piece of candy that had been left out and smacking his head on a piece of firewood on the way down. The beast snarled and Aziraphale’s eyes drifted up toward Warlock, standing halfway up the stairs with a branch in his hand.

“Warlock!” he gaped. “Why did you do that?” What could have possibly made the child think it was a good idea to attack the man that was supposedly protecting them? The only one who currently had a weapon in hand as this monster tried to eat them alive.

“That was your plan, remember?” The boy shot back, clearly shocked to see Aziraphale was not currently singing his praises. “Knock him out!”

“No!” Aziraphale cried, painfully aware that the monstrous beast was still lingering in the doorway. The gardener was torn. Should he rush to Warlock’s side, scoop the child up and make a run for it? Or would doing so anger the terrifying creature in their midst? Was he better off staying put? Stopping his breathing and slowing his heart rate until the creature took it upon itself to leave them well enough alone. “That was a terrible plan. I told you to forget it.”

Warlock shrugged, but before he could say anything in return, Aziraphale found his attention entirely occupied with a great, snarling monster inching its way closer to him. 

“Oh Heavens,” the man murmured, backing up until he was pressed up against the wall, the fireplace to his right. Thinking fast, Aziraphale reached for the corner of the metal grate, hoping that there was enough distance between it and the fire behind to prevent it from being scorching hot. His fingers loped around the edge and the man tugged it forward, creating a makeshift barrier between himself and the monster. It snarled at him, anger only seeming to intensify with each passing second. 

“No!” He heard Warlock shout from the other side of the creature and Aziraphale tried to cry out. To tell the boy to run - to save himself, but the fear that had taken hold of him closed his throat the moment words tried to creep out. “Bad puppy. I’m gonna give you a spank!”

Eerie blue eyes turned to face the young boy and Aziraphale found that he could move once more. He lunged forward and grabbed Warlock around his waist, careful to avoid the sharp blade of the axe that now rested upside down in the child’s hand. Without another word, the pair rushed from the room. Aziraphale kept his eyes open, trying to focus on the path in front of him and not the ragged, panting of breath at their rear, or the sound of the growls and snarls that seemed to be growing closer no matter how fast he went.

“Candy camouflage!” Warlock announced, tossing another handful of candy behind them with his free hand. To his utter amazement, the beast paused for a moment, crouching down to lick it up with his slimy tongue, giving Aziraphale and Warlock the chance to escape. 

The side door, which was currently the only door in the cottage that hadn’t been blasted off its hinges, lead out to the mill. Aziraphale slammed it shut behind them, knowing that it wouldn’t hold. If they were lucky, it might hold long enough for them to find a way out. So far today, their luck had been mysteriously missing. If it was planning on making an appearance, now would be a grand time.

“Alright,” Aziraphale began, his eyes already searching the room, mind scrambling to come up with a plan. There wasn’t much here. Just a strange wooden machine, some stacks of wood, a sack of potatoes, and ladder leading up to the roof.

A ladder...leading to the roof.

“Go for the ladder,” the man ordered, placing Warlock gently on the ground, taking the axe from him and nudging him forward. Heart tight in his chest, Aziraphale prayed they would have enough time. The beast was scratching at the door now, mere moments from breaking through. “Climb up. I’ll be right behind you.”

“Okay!” Warlock agreed in a more chipper tone than he had any right to, given the circumstances. No sooner had he taken half a dozen steps forward, than the door burst open behind Aziraphale, splintering at the edges as the beast burst through. The man doged to one side in the nick of time as it came barreling through, crashing into the strange machine, sending parts flying in all directions. Aziraphale scrambled to his feet, rushing toward the ladder where Warlock was currently three steps up.

“You need to move a bit faster, Warlock,” the man urged, placing his hands on either side of the rungs as he looked back. The beast lay in a dazed heap amidst the rubble, but he was certain it wouldn’t remain there long. Piercing blue eyes blinked slowly, the light in the room flickering as they closed and opened once more. “Time to get a wiggle on.”

“I’m trying,” the boy protested, lifting his foot up one step further, “But Kitty ate half my candy earlier and he’s a lot heavier than before.”

Aziraphale tore his eyes away from the dark creature that was now slowly pulling itself up onto its feet. “Oh for goodness - “ he huffed, reaching out to grab the frog from the boy’s hand. “Give me that. Go! Just go!”

The pair clambered up as quickly as they could, hearing the growling and snarling from the creature down below. Aziraphale tried his best not to look back. If he did, he would surely die of fright, or miss his next step and tumble to the ground. Best not to speculate exactly what was happening down there and keep moving forward until they reached the top - 

Suddenly, there was no more space left to climb. Aziraphale bumped up against Warlock’s back and saw that the child had reached the top of the ladder and was struggling to open the trapdoor in the ceiling above him. Silently, the gardener handed over the frog and lifted his hands up over his head, pushing open the door and allowing them both to climb out into the open air of the forest.

The next series of events went by so quickly, Aziraphale barely had time to register them all. One moment, they were standing alone on the wooden rooftop, overlooking the dense forest that seemed to stretch out miles upon miles in front of them - as far as the eye could see. The next moment, the beast was crashing through the boards beneath them, sending shingles tumbling over the side of the mill into the river. The beast growled and jumped. Aziraphale grabbed onto Warlock and pulled him closer, ducking as he went, and then that horrid creature was tumbling over the side, getting himself caught within the waterwheel.

A loud crunching sound seemed to echo around them, and the next thing Aziraphale knew, the mill beneath his feet was crumbling to pieces and both he and Warlock were falling over the edge and landing in the river, the cold water soaking into their clothes, sending a shock through his entire system.

When he surfaced again, gasping and spluttering for air while simultaneously checking to see if there were any broken bones. Nothing seemed to be wrong with him, other than the sopping clothes, but as he looked around, he noticed that once again, his young charge was missing.

Oh, Warlock was going to be the absolute death of him. Aziraphale was sure of it.

“Hey Aziraphale!” Relief flooded him at the sound. The man turned in the direction of Warlock’s voice, finding to his utter amazement that the boy was riding out of the river on the back of a very different creature - a brown and white dog, whose fur was sopping wet and lying flat against its stomach. The dog looked completely exhausted, yet there was a spark of relief in its eyes, as if it had just endured something horrid and the moment had finally passed.

In that moment, Aziraphale knew exactly how he felt.

“Look!” Warlock announced as he slid off the dog’s back. “He spit up the turtle and now he’s my new best friend.”

Aziraphale’s eyes trailed down to where Warlock was pointing, and sure enough, there sat a slimy, spit covered turtle with a single piece of candy stuck to its back. The dog whined, as if to say ‘I’m sorry’ to the both of them, then padded off down the riverbank.

“Wait,” Warlock began as he came to stand by Aziraphale, watching the dog walk away. The frog in his arms croaked loudly, causing the man to jump at the unexpected noise. “Where are you going?”

The dog did not listen and Aziraphale did not attempt to call him back. He didn’t want to interact with this place anymore than absolutely necessary. Talking snakes? Dogs swallowing turtles and then turning into monsters because of it? This place was an absolute nightmare. The sooner he was rid of it, the happier Aziraphale would be.

“Well, isn’t that just the way of things?” Warlock murmured to himself as he watched the dog spin around three times and curl up on the riverbank, well away from turles and woodsmen and broken mills of any kind. One great big yawn and he was asleep.

Aziraphale smiled, relief flooding through him. He and Warlock were safe for now. The beast problem had been taken care of, which meant they could finally go about finding a way home.

“The mill is destroyed, the oil all gone…”

That relief was short-lived. At the sound of the woodsman’s voice, Aziraphale slowly turned around to take in the damage. The mill really was destroyed. There was no getting around that. He felt bad, for all the damage they had caused, but he and Warlock could hardly be blamed for it. They had done nothing but run for their lives. It was the dog who had broken things. Aziraphale wished he could help, but he was no carpenter. He wouldn’t know how to go about fixing a mess as big as this.

“Yes,” he murmured, trying his best to come up with words of comfort. “Quite right. But at least we solved the beast problem.” Aziraphale turned, gesturing to the fluffy brown and white creature who was sound asleep several dozen paces away.

When he turned back, the man’s stomach sank. The Woodsman was staring at him with wide eyes, his mouth agape in horror. “The dog?” he asked, and Aziraphale suddenly felt very unintelligent, which was an unusual feeling for someone like him. “That is not the Beast! The Beast cannot be mollified like some farmer’s pet! He talks like the night. He sings like the four winds. He is the death of  _ hope.  _ He steals their children and he’ll - he’ll ruin…”

The man trailed off now, no longer looking at either one of them. Instead, he let his eyes drift out towards the river running by. Slowly, moaning and groaning as he did so, the Woodsman sank down onto the grassy ground, shoulders hunched over, making himself as small as he could, as if he were wishing to disappear altogether.

“You must go,” the Woodsman murmured, his eyes still fixed on the water slowly drifting by. Knees tucked up under his chin, voice so sad and distant, it was difficult to hear him, and yet Aziraphale felt himself leaning in, hanging onto every word this man had to say. Knowing deep in his heart that these would be the words to lead the two of them home. “Take the child north. Look for a town.”

Right. Not entirely clear directions, but it was better than nothing. Aziraphale could take them North. That much he was capable of, and maybe their luck would turn up after all. Maybe the town would be easy to find. 

Without a word, the gardener walked over to Warlock and took his hand, leading him from one rock to another as they crossed slowly over the gentle water that floated by. It was peaceful, in a way the rest of their day had not been, and Aziraphale found himself wanting to stay by this gentle stream a bit longer. If only to have a single moment to breathe. 

“Beware the unknown!” the Woodsman cried as they reached the opposite shore. “Fear the Beast, and leave these woods...if you can. It is your burden to bear.”

“Right,” Aziraphale murmured out loud, taking Warlock’s hand as they vanished into the underbrush, following the beaten dirt path that went north. “Ok. Got it.”

He didn’t have it. Not really. This whole experience had been completely bizarre and Aziraphale wasn’t entirely convinced it hadn’t all been a dream. He wished he knew of a way to wake himself up, but so far, nothing had been successful. For now, he would just have to play along and hope for the best. That was all he could do.

“Aziraphale?” Warlock ventured after a short while of walking along the trail. “I think I’ve thought of a new name for my frog friend.”

For a moment, Aziraphale said nothing, simply waiting for the boy to continue on as he normally did. WHen he did not, the gardener looked down and smiled at his young charge. “What is that, my dear.”

Warlock smiled, so bright and full of joy and for a brief moment, Aziraphale’s worried heart softened a bit inside his chest. “I’m going to call him Aziraphale!”

The gardener laughed. “That is going to be very confusing,” he pointed out, unable to keep the smile off his face as they continued north along the path. 

The grin on Warlock’s face only grew brighter. “Nawh. Because I’m going to call  _ you _ Kitty.”

Another laugh, lifting his heart and making the forest around them seem just a bit lighter. “What?” he asked, aghast. “Maybe I’ll just have to start calling you Candy Pants.”

“Woah!” the boy cheered. “Yeah.”

The frog in his arms croaked and Warlock looked down at him, a strand of dark hair falling into his eyes. “Good one, Aziraphale.”

“Thank you,” the gardener nodded his head, happy that at least Warlock seemed to be taking this whole experience in stride. Ultimately, as long as Warlock was ok when the came out the other side of this, Aziraphale could live with this strange dream for a little while longer.

Warlock looked up and stuck his tongue out playfully. “I wasn’t talking to you, I was talking to Aziraphale.”

Another laugh echoed in the air around them, drifting up to the treetops and the inky blue sky beyond. Somewhere above them, a serpent lay comfortably perched in the treetops, out of sight and out of mind for the time being. He was silently watching the exchange from a safe distance, a hint of a smile upon his face and the barest glint of hope lighting up his bright amber eyes. 


End file.
